The Moon and the Sun
by Darnie
Summary: Fate had thrown Zakuro Fujiwara and Keiichiro Akasaka together. After a drama at Cafe Mew Mew concerning Mousse Au Chocolat and an important yet angry customer, the events that follow unleash a whole new range of emotions. Zakuro/Keiichiro.


First of all, I'd like to say that no, I do not own Tokyo Mew mew at all! I just like writing fan fiction for it. Tokyo mew mew, and I mean, everything Tokyo mew mew (Characters, plot etc...) all belong to and are copyright Mia Ikumi.

Chapter One: You might forgive, but you never forget.

The tea swirled round and round, almost hypnotizing the girl producing the mesmerising mixture with an elegantly crafted spoon.  
Her glacier eyes allowed the warm twirling mixture to consume her attention for a moment or so.  
Then, in usual ritual, removing the spoon tardily and watching the humble liquid slowly calm itself down until it was as motionless as a lone brick.  
The girl wondered at it for a minute, wondering if she would stir again, or sip her tea; and then stir it again.  
Decisions, decisions.  
She settled for the latter of course, just so she could glance for the sake of herself. A bomb could go off in here and she probably wouldn't notice, let alone care. Had she gotten this sad? So sad that she would rather watch a liquid that would soon be digested settle, than the brimming life around her?  
Oh yes.  
One of the few days she spent.  
No.  
One of the few days she was uforced/u to spend at a cafe; not that she didn't like cafes; don't get her wrong, she usually enjoyed a chilled iced tea on a harsh summer day.  
It was more so the bcustomers/b iin/i the cafe that on a daily basis got on her nerves.  
Typically love sick teenage girls going on about how 'KAWAII!!!!' the place was.  
And then ordering the toughest and most difficult delicacy on the menu.  
Zakuro smirked at the thought of her complaints, it was pathetic; she wasn't even the hardest worker.  
"NYAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Zakuro withdrew from her elongated sip and targeted the source of the high pitched squeal. As expected, it came from Ichigo Momomiya, a cherry-haired, typical 'girl-next door' outgoing type of 15 year old girl who constantly had issues concerning her love life. It had become apparent that _someone _had decided they were going to test gravity and had consequently destroyed one of the most notorious delicacies on the menu.  
_Mousse au Chocolat._  
"It just screams 'mess.'" Zakuro thought as her eyes scanned the muddy massacre.  
Different proportioned remnants of the delicate vessel were scattered among the most ridiculous of places; in the Ajisai pot plant, on one of the heart shaped windows, on a customer s face...  
Zakuro swiftly gave defeat to her tea drinking, and immediately went to the situation; she didn't need another group meeting concerning customer service to disturb her tight schedule. This customer was the type not to be reckoned with, Zakuro could already sense it. He was man in his late forties or so it seemed, the evidence being his semi-weathered skin and thinning hair, he was also dressed formally in a grey suit; her heart sank, "Had to pick a superior didn't you?" Zakuro thought unkindly.  
The customer's expression was disturbed and revolted, causing the wrinkles to indent further into his forehead. He was one of those men who reached their boiling point easily. The kind Zakuro knew all too well being a model. And a good one at that. It was then that his hands tardily wiped some of the mousse off the collar of his blazer; a mistake as this would only make it worse. In an epic manner, he then stood up from his chair, pointed to Ichigo AND Lettuce and then to the mousse corpse distributed throughout the floor,  
"What_ is_ this!? How dare you! I have a meeting in 50 minutes! Is this the kind of service Keiichiro is providing these days!? **I WANT TO SEE YOUR SUPERIOR!**" The man had turned tomato red, a flush so powerful, that even his hands were pink-ish. Almost swollen looking. Ichigo and Lettuce Midorikawa (Zakuro had forgotten about her until now; but atleast the person who produced all the mess was identified) looked like they were about to burst into tears as they clutched each other tightly, as if the customer was a King Cobra, ready to strike and kill.  
It was one of those moments when Zakuro felt a tinge of sympathy tingly within her emotions, it wasn't their fault; it was purely an accident. It was time to act, and act swiftly, she needed a name...a name...Zakuro scanned the customer's suit again, and there, above a slightly creased pocket lied what at that moment could have been mistaken as gold; a name tag.  
**Akasaka Kaito.**  
_"Akasaka_...no wonder Keiichiro was mentioned so rudely..." Zakuro thought as she prepared herself for the fire.  
"Hai, Moushiwake arimasen Akasaka-Sensei!" Zakuro started to walk slowly, even seductively towards the customer. An eerie silence consumed the room that had once flourished with laughter and mindless chatter, Zakuro's famous dazzling smile was plastered to her face, and it seemed to enchant everyone within a mile, including the important customer,  
"O-oh! W-well...I guess it's okay, I mean...could you please inform Keiichiro that his father is here? Arigato." Zakuro nodded, noticing that his face had gone and even deeper red.  
Zakuro smiled and gave a 'mhmmm' sound, turned on her heel and made her way from what seemed a million eyes ogling her.

Zakuro made her way to the kitchen, her thoughts amazingly not even bothered by the whole scenario; she was more interested in how she could escape all this drama that seemed to occur here every day. Keiichiro was in his typical position, behind the table, icing a lavish cake until it was perfection. He was so focused, even possessed with the icing of the cakes. Which, in reality, there was no real point. They were either eaten or dropped by Lettuce or Ichigo anyway. Keiichiro had sharp senses too, Zakuro had only just entered the vicinity of the room, and he was already waiting for her,  
"Ah, Zakuro-san, I gather you have some orders for me?" He flashed her a grin, as he gently put down a packet of icing roses, Zakuro eyed the roses, and then eyed Keiichiro until she was staring him straight in the eye. Keiichiro was half the reason that she was here. She could never really forgive him for that. Her voice, a few moments ago, bursting with flirtatious warmth, had already returned to the ice princess; one that just wanted to get to the point.  
"Keiichiro-san, your father is here." Keiichiro grinned at a larger degree; if that was possible. Zakuro's icy exterior didn't bother Keiichiro, he knew that one day, even if it was in a hundred years time, that she would eventually forgive him; and the fact that he deserved it in some sense,  
"Arigato Zakuro-san." Keiichiro was in some ways like the sun, bright and brimming with positivity. Zakuro disliked this, it made her feel...uncomfortable. An affiliation with the moon seemed a lot more humble in her opinion. Zakuro decided that it was time to go sweep the leaves off the porch; she always did that when she wanted to get out of the faux cuteness of the cafe that suffocated her to no end. And it was also a good way to get away from the drama. And the 'after-battle.  
**After-battle = Minto vs. Ichigo vs. Shirogane**.  
Something that if you could avoid, you would. As she turned to go to the closet to find the broom, Keiichiro stopped her,  
"Zakuro-san, before you sweep, could you please give this order out? Table 5." Keiichiro quickly found a knife, and took a chunk out of a freshly iced strawberry cheesecake that sat on a side table, and then plopped it on one of the lucky plates (A plate that had not been broken yet).  
"Well, they do say that cheesecake is always good on a bad day." Keiichiro locked eyes with Zakuro again, a bit more intensely this time. Slowly walking closer and closer, never disconnecting the relation he had with her eyes, she had pretty eyes, they were...oddly sensitive for someone who acted like she was made from stone like materials. The truth was, was that he had always kind of had a tiny crush on Zakuro. Even before she was involved in the Mew Project, she was no stranger to fame, or fans. It surprised him that she, _the Zakuro Fujiwara_ was one out of millions that held the right DNA for the Gray Wolf. In a sense, he felt that fate had always wanted it that way. It wasn't until Zakuro blinked that he held the plate out, and slid it in to Zakuro's barely outstretched delicate hand, touching its softness gently as his retreated. It was one of those awkward moments. One of those _silent _awkward moments. When you really should refrain from touching another person involved. And the point that she was Zakuro; you didn't kiss her on the hand, let alone touch her. The situation involved being the tension between them since she was infected with Gray Wolf genes. Zakuro picked up the uneasiness that flooded the air, although, her thoughts had turned to the fact that she would have never of realised how rough Keiichiro's hands were. They always looked kind of soft.  
"Well...I had better go..." Keiichiro gave an embarrassed smirk, and left the kitchen quickly and almost clumsily, as if it was inhabited by a horde of angst bees.

Zakuro just nodded, and slowly followed the hurried Keiichiro out of the kitchen, wondering if he felt as...confused as she did.


End file.
